At Last (The Idle Point, Maine Stories) - By Barbara Bretton Page 0,50

him after he was dressed and ready to go. "Two hundred fifty dollar fine. We take Visa and Mastercard."

"Do you take IOUs?"

The kid didn't have much of a sense of humor but he did have a heart. "Listen," he said, "I go off duty in a half hour. Why don't I drive you to the church for your mother's funeral and we'll settle up the fine later."

Ben looked at him for a long while before he spoke. "Thank you," he said over the throbbing pain behind his eyes. "I appreciate it."

As it turned out they were too late for the services. Ben almost wept with relief. He was hung over, bereft, incapable of facing Graciela. "Listen," he said to the young cop. "I'll walk home from here."

Instead the rookie, in an act of kindness Ben didn't deserve or even want, said, "No problem. I'll drive you to the cemetery instead."

#

Gramma Del, you should see the flowers! They must have raided florists from here to Bangor and back again. Roses everywhere you look, the cream-colored ones and those yellows you love. And the freesia! I wish you could smell the air right now, so sweet and fresh. So many people loved you, Gramma, but you knew that, didn't you? And you knew I loved you most of all.

The cemetery was jammed with mourners, row and rows of people, every single one of them there to honor Gramma Del. The crowd from Patsy's, the school, church, the Gazette, everyone at the animal hospital including Doctor Jim, her friends from high school. Even Noah's mother had made a brief appearance at the church, just long enough to give Gracie a swift hug in the vestibule before she disappeared. Gracie didn't ask any questions. She was merely grateful that Mrs. Chase had shown up at all. It was more than her father had done.

The crew from Walker's Funeral Home had told her that her father showed up right after she and Noah walked out onto the dock. He had taken one look at the hearse then turned and bolted. There had been random sightings over the last two days, always at a bar or tavern, but beyond that, nothing. She knew what that meant. Her father's boozing had formed the pattern of her days. She told herself she wasn't disappointed, that this was no more than she had learned to expect from her father, but it was all a lie.

This time she thought he was going to make it. He had been sober for almost six months. He went to work each day at the church, helping to rebuild the rectory inside and out. She knew it was a struggle but he'd been hanging onto sobriety for the first time she could remember. When she told Gramma Del how excited she was for him, Gramma had only nodded and continued watching Wheel of Fortune.

Anger filled her chest. She was angry for all the lost years, for the little girl who had looked up to a father who couldn't see her through the haze of booze. She was angry for Gramma Del who deserved so much more from her son than she had ever received. If Ben had dared to show up she would have—

She heard him before she saw him. He must have bumped into one of the other mourners because his "Excuse me" seemed to shatter the stillness of the cemetery like the sound of glass breaking beneath a sledge. She looked up at Noah. His gaze was riveted to a spot slightly behind her and to the right and she turned around, knowing what she was about to see.

Ben walked slowly toward her. She saw nothing but her father; heard nothing but the slide of grass beneath his shoes. He wore dark pants with bent creases, a white shirt and a navy blue tie. His eyes were red-rimmed and glassy. The corners of his mouth were turned down in sorrow. From forty feet away she could see the splotchy skin and the broken veins spidering his cheeks and nose. That he had the nerve to show up at Gramma Del's graveside after a two-day drunk pushed Gracie over the edge.

"Get out," she said as he came closer.

He stopped for a moment then took another step forward. "Graciela, I'm sorry."

"Get out," she repeated, dimly aware of Noah by her side.

"I have a right to be here," her father said.

"You gave up your right to be here when you got back in your car